Page 123 of To Kill a King
The older guard glanced up from his porridge and peered through the bars. He grunted. “Do I know you?”
Right. He wouldn’t recognize her in her servant girl form. She shook her head, brushing his question aside. “Where’s Baron Larimar?”
The man shrugged. “Dunno. Haven’t seen him since they tossed us down here to rot.”
She glanced down the hallway at all the closed doors. “How many of you are left?”
He gave her a half shrug. “Only a handful, less than ten.”
Her knees went weak and she braced herself against the wall. At least some of the Larimar guards survived. “Everyone’s up here? Is there anyone in the lower levels?”
“I don’t know.” He shoved some of the gruel into his mouth with dirty fingers.
“If I free you, can you lead everyone out of here?”
Fire sparked in the old guard’s eyes. He pushed himself off the floor, porridge forgotten. “I can, if you give me directions. Won’t do much good to run right back to the King’s guards.”
Putting her hands over the lock, she conjured heat. “Stand back from the door.” The metal turned red under her palm. When she judged it hot enough to be malleable, she yanked. The latch gave with a snap and the door swung open.
Torsen stepped into the hall, his eyes blinking furiously and his jaw loose. “Who are you? What happened?”
“No time,” Aliya said, moving to the next door and repeating the process. “How long until the guards come through?”
Torsen glanced back. “They’ll come back in ten or fifteen minutes to collect the food trays.”
Aliya wrenched another door open. She had an idea. “Perfect.”
Soon, seven of her father’s soldiers stood at attention in the hallway, along with two other men and the woman. The last three were in those cursed iron manacles.
“Everyone, come with me.” Aliya waved for them to follow her down to the guards’ room, still blessedly empty. She pointed to the garbage chute. “In there. Be careful, it’s slick. The pipe goes about fifty paces down and will spit you out into the catacombs.” She gave Torsen instructions to the grate she’d left open before turning to the three magic users. “Wait for me. I’ll be down with the keys to the shackles as soon as I can.” She managed to keep the tremble from her voice.
Once the final prisoner disappeared down the chute, Aliya returned to the corridor. With a deep breath, she adjusted her appearance to match Malkov’s dark hair and the cruel sneer he’d given her on her wedding day. She had no mirror to double check, but hopefully it would pass if she got the physicality and tone of voice correct. And if the guards overlooked her stench and clothing.
She headed down the stairs.
The stink grew sharper as she descended. The air became chill and damp, almost sticky. Aliya fought the instinct to rub her forearms to ward off the cold. Her current shape would never do anything so uncouth.
The two guards she noted before hovered at the end of the hall, in front of a metal door.
An iron door.
There was only one reason to build an iron door in a dungeon. Whatever mage was behind there would undoubtedly be powerful, and a potentially valuable ally.
The men froze as she came into view, saluting then bending at the waist.
She walked up to them, crossing her arms over her chest. “Report.”
“King Malkov,” the guard on the right stammered as he eyed her clothes. “We didn’t expect you until tomorrow.”
Aliya pursed her lips together and glared at him. “I don’t owe you an explanation. How’s our prisoner today?”
“Um, as well as can be expected, Your Majesty. For a shadow dragon.”
A what? She fought to keep a straight face.
The older man shot a glance at his companion before staring at her feet. “Would you like the mages moved? Or prepped?”
Prepped? She didn’t want to know. Aliya reached out. “Keys.”